“Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. But when it came to broaching them, it proved to be much more difficult than she had supposed. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. Goopes disconcerted the Alderman a little by abruptly challenging the roguish-looking young man in the orange tie (who, it seemed, was the assistant editor of New Ideas) upon a critique of Nietzsche and Tolstoy that had appeared in his paper, in which doubts had been cast upon the perfect sincerity of the latter. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation.
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